If Old Gregg Met The Winchesters
by SuperwholockkieofMJN
Summary: Crack written for April Fool's Day in which Old Gregg kidnaps Sam Winchester. Teen rating is mostly for language.


Sam and Dean have stopped at a motel for the night. It's between jobs and there's not much to do but get supper and relax. Sam offers to get something to eat. Dean stays in the motel room.

Sam turns towards the car after he shuts the motel door behind him, and standing in front of him is something that looks vaguely like a person. Its skin is green, as is its hair, which is tangled with seaweed—there's more seaweed on the creature's head than there is hair, Sam decides. Equally disturbing to Sam is the fact that the creature is wearing a shiny silver suit jacket and matching tie with a pink ruffly tutu. It's also wearing leggings and sneakers.

"I'm Old Gregg," the creature says, grinning.

"Um," is all Sam manages to say before he creature lifts up his tutu and a blinding white light shines in Sam's face.

* * *

Next thing Sam knows , he's lying on his back on a table—more accurately, he's draped over a small round table. His head and legs are hanging off the edges. He tries to get off the table and stand up, but his legs give out beneath him and he falls to his knees.

He pulls himself up, gripping the edge of the table, and looks around. It's dark and he can't tell where any exit might be. It's some kind of cavern, though it has electricity because there's a functioning refrigerator and a number of lava lamps. For some reason the back of Sam's calves and heel are hurting.

"What's your name," a voice asks without inflection. It's the voice of the creature, Sam figures out. His mind isn't working as fast as usual.

"Who are you?" he asks creature when he appears in front of Sam.

"I already told ya. I'm Old Gregg!"

"_What_ are you?"

"I'm Old Gregg. Isn't that enough for you, it's enough for Old Gregg."

"Where am I?"

"Gregg's place. D'you like it?" Gregg rushes to a cabinet and takes out a large bottle. "I've got Baileys, I got... I got two glasses here so you can drink Baileys outta a glass at the same time as me, I got watercolors over there, I got more bottles of Baileys here, so we won't run out-"

"Let me go," Sam says, cutting him off.

"Why? You're m'boyfriend, you don't need anything out there."

"What?" Sam is filled with panic. He's been drugged and married once in his life already. "I'm not your boyfriend!"

"You are, boyfriend. I'm gonna call you boyfriend until you tell me y'name."

"...My name is Sam."

"Sam... That's a lovely name, Sam. Can I call ya Sammy?"

"No!"

"That's alright, Sam. That don't change how I feel about ya. That don't change what I feel when I see ya. You're like a _moose_, so big and strong-lookin'."

Sam lets go of the table and manages to stand on his own feet. He feels like his limbs are made out of paper. He's a little nauseated but that could just be the fact that a seaweed-capped green creature in a tutu with genitals that can knock him out is chatting him up.

"What did you do to me?"

"You saw my mangina and you were overcome. That's okay, though. Old Gregg's mangina does that to lotsa people. Even giant moosey men with beautiful hair. Here, have Baileys. It'll make ya feel better."

Gregg holds out a glass filled to the brim with Baileys. Sam knows better than to drink anything a stranger offers.

"No."

Old Gregg drops his smile.

"Sam, you should drink the Baileys. Bad things happen to people who don't drink my Baileys. Bad things like what happened to y'phone there." Gregg points at the floor, at what used to be Sam's phone; now it's in hundreds of small pieces, smashed.

Whatever the drink is laced with, it's probably not worse than whatever Gregg will do to Sam if he refuses. So he takes the glass with a shaking hand, nearly spilling it as he raises it to his lips and takes a small sip. At least it tastes normal.

"Creamy, innit." Gregg is grinning again.

Sam debates throwing the rest of the drink in Old Gregg's face and making a run for it, but he doesn't know which way to go. If he goes the wrong way, he'll be even more screwed when he has to turn back. Before he can make a decision, Gregg gets closer to Sam, toe to toe. The scent of the seaweed in the creature's hair is overpowering.

"D'you love me, Sam?"

Sam tries to back away but he's too unsteady and he falls back against the table. Too weak to run, too weak to fight, mind too slow to outwit, Dean has no idea where he is... Fuck it all. Whatever Old Gregg is trying to do, he might as well play along. The less Gregg has to weaken him, the faster Sam'll get out.

"Um. Yeah."

"I love you too, Sam. I love the way your hair was shinin'."

"...I'd like to, uh, know more about you, Gregg, before we... take things to the next level." Sam begins to think maybe he should take it back. He already wants to die, a little. If Dean ever found out Sam said these things...

"Sure, Sam." Gregg puts his hands on Sam's upper arms. "I'll tell ya all about Old Gregg. And I wanna hear all about you too, Sam."

* * *

Sam spends the next half hour sitting and talking with a scaly man-fish. He half-listens to what Gregg tells him and lies about his own past as he slowly regains strength and surveys the cavern, trying to figure out which direction is more likely to be the way out. There's no light or breeze to help him. He ends up having a whole glass of Baileys.

"I wanna kiss you, Sam," Gregg says after he shows off some watercolor paintings.

"I- I think we should wait. ...Um, take things slow. Y'know?"

Gregg doesn't respond to that. He turns his head and listens to something. Footsteps.

"There's somebody comin'," he tells Sam. "Somebody comin' to disturb us and our love!" He starts to get up to attack the invader.

That must be Dean, Sam decides. Gregg's... mangina will knock him straight out and then they'll both be screwed. So Sam makes a decision that he knows he's going to regret.

"I don't hear anything." He take Gregg by the wrist, touches his clammy cheek. "I changed my mind."

"You wanna kiss me, Sam?"

_Fuck no._

"Yes." With that, Sam leans forward and kisses Old Gregg.

Gregg's lips are incredibly salty, yet surprisingly soft.

The footsteps are getting closer. They're definitely Dean's. Sam keeps his eyes open but his brother is outside his field of vision. All he can do is keep Gregg distracted long enough for Dean to get within range and shoot him. Unfortunately that involves tongue.

Seconds later, he hears a gunshot and Gregg slumps over, killed by a head-shot.

"Sam, are you okay?" Dean asks. He's already at Sam's side helping him stand up.

"I will be, I think," Sam says.

"...Were you-"

"Yes, Dean, I was. And we are never discussing this ever again."


End file.
